


Lovebirds

by Dragomir



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Multi, Romantic Fluff, Suicidal Thoughts, alexios is a moody misthios, background barnabas/iola
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/pseuds/Dragomir
Summary: Alexios hated lovebirds right now. The human ones, not the animals.





	Lovebirds

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finished the Silver Islands last night but never got the Thaletas romance to complete. Still got a kiss! ...Promptly got dumped for Kyra. (And Mykonos, by extension.) They looked very happy together, but...
> 
> Anyways, that's what fic is for!

“Alexios!”

Alexios cringed into his cup, wincing at the overly-bright joy, and then hoped the expression hadn’t shown. He was already somewhat nauseated by how _happy_ Barnabas was with the Adrestia’s newest lieutenant, fair, one-eyed Iola. Still, he _had_ meant it when he told Barnabas the meeting was like the stars aligning. It was nauseatingly cute too.

Pity _his_ stars hadn’t aligned. He’d made a _fool_ of himself, practically throwing himself at Thaletas’ feet…only for Thaletas to say he was in love with Kyra, in the end. And Kyra had apparently gotten so involved with the rebellion _and_ the Spartans that she had stopped drinking long enough to reciprocate.

He was happy for them, really.

And now here they both were, looking deliriously happy and holding hands. He had the sudden urge to shoot some lovebirds. …The animals. The people of Delos still needed the _human ones_ around. Fuck them both, and their happiness. He took another sip of his wine and pretended he hadn’t heard Kyra and her happiness.

Someone poked his side, hard, and he sighed.

“Thaletas. Kyra.” He smiled, only a bit forced. Kyra and Thaletas looked pleased with themselves, dizzy and in love. Maybe he could just throw himself off a cliff and snap his neck on impact. It’d be faster. “Don’t you have a party to host?” The rebels were happy and drinking. The people of Delos who’d been sympathetic were happy and drinking. Someone had even found a set of cultist armor – it was so strongly associated with Podarkes no one would question where it had come from – and anyone so martially-inclined was firing arrows at it. There was apparently a point system based on how much the archer had imbibed and where their arrow hit. Drachmae were involved, which never ended well.

Maybe he’d join them.

“We…we were hoping you’d join us for a…quieter…party,” Kyra offered shyly, holding out her free hand. The smile on her face was softer this time, but still as warm and inviting as it always was.

Alexios grimaced into his wine, not caring if she saw. “And leave Barnabas without a chaperone? He’ll drive Iola-”

“I’m sure he and Iola will be fine. At the very least, they will not get into more trouble than Podraxes will be in in the morning,” Thalets cut in dryly. The brute in question was swaying on his feet and loudly proclaiming his undying love for anyone who didn’t evade his grasp. Alexios laughed and shook his head, grinning at last.

“I’ll just stay and keep an eye on _him_ then.” He was extremely reluctant to go into private with the lovebirds. They were happy. He was not. He wanted to hit something. Probably Thaletas. Not that that was fair to the Spartan. Alexios _had_ called him suicidal on their first meeting, though. And hadn’t retrieved that helmet. (No matter what Barnabas said about him, he wasn’t the son of Poseidon, and that helmet would be staying down there until humans learned to breathe underwater.)

“One of my men will do it,” Thaletas replied, tone still mild. “You aren’t avoiding a quiet evening with us, Alexios. Come.” The Spartan was used to being obeyed. Alexios was used to being obstinate. “We broke into Podarkes’ wine cellar and stole everything Kyra said was good,” he added in a wheedling tone.

Alexios stared at his goblet, then shrugged. “Well, if _Kyra_ thinks it’s good…” He might as well get hammered on Podarkes’ wine and silently toast the cult’s downfall. “Fine. Let’s go.” Kyra’s smile was more radiant than Helios and Thaletas’ smile more than matched it. If he was still in love with them both on this level, he obviously wasn’t drinking _enough_. Wine was, according to Barnabas, a cure for everything from bruised shins to broken hearts.

Maybe it could cure lovesick stupidity too.

“We noticed you weren’t enjoying yourself,” Kyra said softly as she looped her arm through one of his, effectively trapping him unless he wanted to use more force than necessary on his rebellious friend. Her people would take offense to that. “Thaletas thought it might be the noise.”

Thaletas shrugged by way of explanation. “My mater used to get these headaches. Noise of any kind would cause her agony and force her to spend days in bed, trying to avoid sound. Pater…made a lot of offerings to the gods for her.” He shrugged one shoulder, looping his arm through Alexios’ free arm. “I thought you might have the same problem, given the way you were starting to go through the wine downstairs.”

“It’s not a headache,” Alexios grumbled mulishly, realizing the Spartan and Delosian had effectively trapped him with them, far away from anyone who might rescue him. Had Barnabas noticed he was missing yet…? Well, at least these two weren’t going to kill him. Not intentionally. He hoped.

“Yes it is,” Kyra said firmly. “And now we’re going to cure it.” Thaletas pushed open the door they had arrived at, revealing a room with a _very_ large bed and enough cushions to cover the Adrestia’s deck at least six times. If anything, it looked like a room Alkibiades would be comfortable in. “And once we’ve drunk his wine, we’re going to destroy some more of Podarkes’ things.”

“…Right.” Alexios eyed the snake statues in the corner and decided he would rather have just stayed downstairs, pretending to be disgusted by Barnabas and Iola making cows-eyes at each other. One-eyed lovebirds. Horrible creatures, truly.

“By destroy, she means defile.” Thaletas untied the straps of his bracers and tossed the offending pieces of armor onto a nearby cushion. “Help me out of this, Kyra?” he added, fingers tugging at the straps on his breastplate. Alexios felt his mouth go dry. In armor, Thaletas looked like any other Spartan soldier, if a bit more heroic than the rest. (He was infatuated with the man, he knew, but his _shoulders_ …) Out of his armor… Out of his armor, Thaletas was _very_ handsome, almost sculpted by the gods themselves. Alexios knew that praise was often applied to him, but next to Thaletas, he felt like the mudmen of Prometheus just beginning to form.

“It’s…not defilement,” he offered in a choked voice, “if it were an offering to Aphrodite.” He shook himself out of the fantasy of leaving bitemarks all over Thaletas’ perfect back and glowered studiousy at the snake statues. _Kyra_ would be allowed to touch him. Gods only knew what Thaletas would think of having a misthios confess to wanting to kiss him.

But the night was young, and there was plenty of wine. He could still offer.

…He could offer to rub oil into Thaletas’ shoulders. That would go over well.

“Very true!” Kyra laughed, and Alexios couldn’t help but join her when he saw the look of panic on the newly-minted general’s face. (Well, he _would_ have been a general if he’d just gone back to Sparta. Military governor was just as honorable. …Maybe.) “Let’s turn this whole place as an altar to Aphrodite then!”

“To Aphrodite,” Thaletas sighed, looking put-upon and sour. “As you wish, Kyra.” He looked at Alexios, mouth turning down. “Misthios, I realize you run around almost naked, but right now, Kyra and I are wearing less than you. Get undressed.”

Alexios grinned, feeling happier than he had all evening. “As you wish, General Thaletas,” he purred, pulling at a few strategic ties on his clothes.

Judging by the look on Thaletas’ face, Alexios could tell he’d be calling the Spartan that a _lot_ tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical accuracy not guaranteed, but at least I had fun.


End file.
